


Living In the Garden of Evil

by flossies



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M, PWP, i'm gay so i don't know how to write straight sex forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 12:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flossies/pseuds/flossies
Summary: Shameless E/C smut. I'm going to hell anyway, see you all there!





	

Erik ripped Christine’s blouse open with an urgency that was unparalleled. She growled at him fiercely, and was about to tell him that that was her favorite blouse, and how dare he mistreat it so, when he crashed his lips to hers in a maddening display of dominance.

He parted their mouths roughly, and proceeded to shove Christine against the wall. He grabbed her hair and snarled, “How _dare_ you go out cavorting like some harlot, when you know you belong to _me.”_

Christine knew he would see her speaking flirtatiously to men on the street, and she _knew_ that he would react this way. She had to admit that she found his possessive nature extraordinarily attractive. The fact that he had to have her all to himself was positively delightful for Christine. She craved that feeling, to be so unbelievably wanted she could hardly stand it.

She was about to speak when Erik fervently pressed his mouth to her neck, making her arch against the wall and moan. He used his teeth to bite at the thin skin and brought forth glorious red marks that would soon show purple. Christine was losing it, sighing with every stroke of his tongue. She adored those marks that he left—the only thing she loved more was showing them off, letting the world know that she belonged to him. He inched his way lower and lower to the soft fleshy part of Christine’s breast.

While Christine was subdued, Erik took the chance to untie his breeches. Christine interrupted him, however, by yanking him up into a kiss. How dare he ignore her! She began rubbing her leg up and down his, both for friction and to hint at what she wanted. He complied all too easily, grabbing her firmly by the left thigh and pulling it up to meet his waist. She surrendered her other leg, and he pulled her up. He smacked her ass, making her smile in delight. He left one hand there to hold her up, and the other snaked its way around to her back.

Christine’s hands went to his hair, feeling the thick luxurious locks of the wig he wore. She ripped it off, and he made a low sound deep in his throat—a warning. She really was treading on thin ice today. The mask he donned was his usual, but it was slightly askew from all the action. She didn’t dare remove it. She stopped kissing him and gazed instead with a hungry look.

He smirked. “ _Oh,_ do we want something now?”

Christine just stared, unamused.

Erik leant in towards her, his breath ghosting the outer shell of her ear. “ _Speak.”_

Christine shivered. “Yes,” she surrendered. _Damn that voice of his!_

He balanced her weight against the wall and in his one hand while the other quickly shrugged down his pants. He was smiling. Cheeky bastard.

He parted her skirts violently, and realized she wasn’t wearing any drawers beneath. He looked up at her with lust filling in his eyes.

Christine groaned, tired of waiting. “Get on with it, old man. I’m not getting any y—”

He lurched forward and she gasped as she always did when he breached her. Her mouth drawn open and eyes closed shut, she felt herself get pinned to the wall as he was sheathed completely inside of her.

Christine opened her eyes wearily to find him staring at her once more. “You are _mine,_ ” he announced, and he swiftly exited her body.

She whined at the loss. Feeling utterly empty after feeling so completely full was enough to get her to beg for more. “ _Erik,_ yes, I’m yours completely, yes.” Her head rolled back against the wall, eager to say anything to get _more_. “Now fuck me, god, just fuck me!”

Erik would never get used to this: hearing his angel, his Christine, speak in such a lewd manner, nor would he get used to seeing her this way—so completely undone _just for him._

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He positioned himself, and his hips shot forward again. Christine cried out in ecstasy, clawing at his scalp as he moved in and out of her. His body was so close to hers that their chests were pressed up together, both heaving in rhythm with his thrusts. Christine’s legs became shaky and he had to hold them up for her.

She cried his name over and over, _Erik, Erik, Erik,_ and he relished in it. He pressed his lips to Christine’s throat again, eliciting a deep moan from her. She moved her hands to his shoulders and dug her fingernails into the flesh that resided there, scratching downwards. Loving the sensation, he groaned against her neck, causing her to cry out in pleasure from the vibrations sent forth.

The friction became all too wonderful all too quickly. He repeatedly slammed into her, removing his mouth from her neck and whispering “ _Chris-tine, Chris-tine._ ” He was lost to the sensation and so was she.

The tension was building within Christine and she screwed her eyes shut as she was _almost there._ A few exquisite thrusts later and Christine came with a long and loud sigh as the pleasure seeped over her in waves. Her orgasm caused her legs to spasm, pulling Erik in deeper. He came moments later, gasping and then shouting her name one final time, letting the high of his release wash over him.

He lazily dropped Christine’s legs, moving his hands to her waist to help her stand. She walked away shakily but confidently, rolling her eyes.

"Erik," she said plainly.

"Yes, my love?" His voice was full of sleepy love and contentedness.

“You owe me a new blouse.”


End file.
